


Ripples in Time

by Jael



Series: Chances Are (1958) [4]
Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: F/M, Family, Laurel Lives, Meet the Family, Second Chances, Sisters, Timey-Wimey, What-If
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-21
Updated: 2019-02-24
Packaged: 2019-05-09 23:28:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14725638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jael/pseuds/Jael
Summary: (UPDATED! And with two new chapters coming.) Set in my "Chances Are" continuity. (In which Leonard Snart got stuck in 1958 with Sara, Ray, and Kendra.) Rip's already lectured Sara and Leonard about how their actions in 1958 may have changed many things. Turns out, at least one of those things strikes very close to home. Set between chapters 16 and 17 of "Somewhere on Your Road Tonight."





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AgentMaryMargaretSkitz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgentMaryMargaretSkitz/gifts).



> Well, this was originally supposed to be one of the last chapters of "Somewhere on Your Road Tonight." However, now that I've arrived at that point, it feels like it's better as an interlude in that story, set between chapters 16 and 17. This original/first chapter has been very slightly updated, and I'll be posting two new chapters soon here before resuming the end of "Somewhere." Thanks to LarielRomeniel for the beta!
> 
> You'll probably understand this better if you've read "Chances Are," "19 Gabriel Drive" and "Somewhere on Your Road Tonight" up to this point!

“My sister nearly died, and you were going to tell me this _when_?!”

Rip takes a careful step back, swallowing, then sighs, holding up his hands. “Sara,” he starts, “it’s not that simple…”

“It sounds pretty damned simple to me!”

The captain glances around, but the rest of the team doesn’t look very supportive. Mick, leaning against the holotable, is actually smirking. Kendra and Ray, neither of whom is very happy about being delayed in visiting their young son at the Refuge, are simply watching, and even the Boy Scout’s eyes are a bit stony. (Leonard’s reminded that the scientist and the former barista know Laurel Lance and the rest of Team Arrow.) Stein looks concerned, but Jax just looks pissed, and Leonard’s pretty sure it’s on Sara’s behalf.

Hunter gives Leonard himself an odd look then, but while Len’s standing right at Sara’s side, ready to call her back to herself if necessary, he’s not real inclined to do so yet. Coming off his own near-miss at the Vanishing Point—even if Sara doesn’t know that yet--he’s feeling a little sensitive to all the former Time Master’s plots and evasions. He’d been prepared to make the sacrifice so Raymond’s kid wouldn’t grow up without a dad, but that doesn’t mean he’d particularly wanted to die, either.

Sara’s giving Hunter a moment, but she’s still standing there staring him down, eyes blazing, hands in fists at her sides. Len can’t blame her. If it was his sister…well.

The captain heaves another sigh, then closes his eyes, seeming to prepare himself. When he speaks, though, it’s not quite what either Leonard or Sara had expected.

“The thing is,” he starts quietly, “that’s not what the original…situation was…”

* * *

“He’s lucky you only decked him.”

Sara sighs as she gets off the motorcycle behind Len, pulling her helmet off and shaking out her hair before looking up at the building before her. After a moment, she turns to look at him as he makes sure the bike is duly locked up and secured before moving to her side.

“I know,” she tells him. “But…Laurel’s alive. And she wasn’t supposed to be. So I can’t help wondering why and just being grateful.”

Leonard studies her a moment, then nods. There’s really not much else to say.

Sara looks back at Star City Hospital, where Laurel Lance is currently at a doctor’s appointment, according to Sara’s father, who’s in the waiting room. Since Hunter’s given them a few days to be sure they want to continue in the quest to kill Savage (and while he takes Jonas to Refuge and picks up their own younger selves to return them to the timeline), they probably could have waited for the pair to leave the hospital. But Sara hadn’t wanted to, feeling the need to see her sister as soon as possible. Leonard gets that. It doesn’t mean he doesn’t have his own qualms about this meeting, but…he gets it.

“Thanks for coming with me,” she says quietly then, interrupting his thoughts. “It means a lot. I didn’t want to do this alone.”

The words, which Len might have sneered at uncomfortably months ago, before, before 1958 and Chronos and the Vanishing Point, draw a slight smile even as he tries to dodge the sentiment a little. “Well,” he tells her in a mock-serious tone, reaching out to squeeze her fingers in a distinctly unSnartlike manner, “maybe it will distract your dad from the fact that you brought home a crook. Or distract your sister. Or your ex. Either ex.”

Sara snorts at him as they walk toward the front doors, unfooled. “I’ve brought home worse. And you’re a card-carrying hero now, remember? You saved time and free will.”

Leonard shrugs uncomfortably. At least Sara seems to have semi-forgiven him for what had nearly happened at the Vanishing Point—once he’d gathered the nerve to tell her. “I sorta had some help. And please stop using that word.”

“Which one?”

“Sara…”

* * *

Quentin Lance has a lot to be thankful for, he knows.

Sure, it’s been a rough few months. He’d lost his job. The city’s been in chaos. His older daughter had been badly injured and nearly died.

But…he’s still here. Still kicking. Still off the booze. And Laurel’s still here, too, getting stronger and steadier and healthier. It could have gone another way, he knows, so easily.

Still. He leans his head back against the battered vinyl of the waiting room chair and sighs. He hates hospitals.

“Daddy!”

But things just got a whole lot better.

He’s on his feet even before Sara reaches him, moving faster than he’d have believed he could a moment ago, wrapping his arms around his younger daughter and holding her tightly as she in turn buries her face in his shoulder. He’d known she said she was coming today, but he hadn’t gotten his hopes up, knowing that whatever this cockamamie mission she’s been off on, it apparently hasn’t been that conducive to visits home.

But here she is, whole and to all appearances healthy, thriving in a way he hasn’t seen since before…before. Yes, the day just got a whole lot better.

Eventually, Sara pulls away, wiping her eyes a little, and Quentin pretends he doesn’t need to do the same, finally noticing the tall man who’d entered with his baby girl.

A man that to Quentin’s discerning paternal eye, isn’t _that_ much younger than he is. The short hair has its share of salt in among the pepper, as does the faint line of stubble. Watching them as he hangs back a little, the stranger looks profoundly uncomfortable in a way that screams both “I’ve seen your daughter in situations you don’t even want to think about” to Quentin’s paternal instincts and “I’ve seen the inside of a prison cell more than once” to his cop instincts.

Once, that particular combination would have gotten a distinctly different reaction. But now…well, no matter how uncomfortable this guy is, he’s here. With Sara, in a situation that can’t be easy for first meetings. That gets him lots of points. At the very least, it gets him a chance.

Yes, things have changed.

But, “Where is she?” Sara’s asking. “Where’s Laurel? Can I see her?”

Quentin stops eyeing the prison-bait boyfriend for a moment to look back at her.

“She’s in the interior waiting area,” he tells Sara. “You can go in, at least if the doc’s not in with her yet.” He shakes his head. “Laurel insisted she doesn’t need her ol’ dad to hold her hand at this point, so I stayed out here, but she’ll be real happy to see you.”

Sara bounces on her toes a moment, smiling, then turns for the door…only to pause and look back.

“Dad, this is Len,” she says, motioning to the tall, quiet man. “Len, my dad.” She winks. “Be nice to each other.”

And then she’s gone, through the door, and Quentin and…Len…look at each other. After a moment, the other man shuffles his feet a little in an oddly uncertain fashion.

“Gonna get some coffee,” he says. “Want a cup?”

That actually perks Quentin up. The hospital’s vending machine crap is…well, crap. It tastes rather like the cardboard the cup is made from.

“Sure,” he allows. “Thanks. No sugar—oh, hell, one sugar—one cream.”

Len nods and vanishes in a silent, almost ghostly way that reminds Quentin of the instincts that tell him the other man is a thief of some sort. He shrugs. Well, if the man comes back with decent coffee, he’s willing to look the other way. For now.

The maybe-thief is back in a few minutes with Starbucks from down the street. Quentin nods in thanks and accepts it, then watches, sipping, in bemusement as Len methodically stirs a ridiculous amount of sugar into his black coffee and takes a swig himself.

For a bit, the two men just sit in silence, ingesting caffeine. Then Quentin, deciding he might as well get some of these preliminaries over with, tilts his head a little, studying the other man.

“So,” he says, “you work with my daughter?”

The turn of phrase gets a faint chuckle. Len studies his coffee for a moment, then lifts and drops a shoulder in what might be a shrug.

“You could say that,” the man says agreeably enough, a faint drawl in his voice. “We’re on the same team. We fight together. We plan together. We…” He hesitates a moment. “Well. We make a good team.”

“Ah.” Quentin considers a moment, then decides to be a bit of a jerk. Well, he figures he’s doing pretty well, all things considered, but he has to keep the upper hand in time-honored father fashion. “An’ how long you been in love with her?”

Len’s head jerks up and the man blinks at him in a way that’s universal, whether you’re talking about a sweaty-palmed teenager picking your daughter up for a movie or an almost-certainly-a-felon who’s apparently somehow also some sort of a time-traveling hero. It’s a look that’s partly “oh-shit-so-busted” and part “oh-no-I’m-not-oh-yes-I-am.”

Quentin snorts as the man blinks at him. “I know that look. You ain’t just friends. An’ I also know that this isn’t the sort of thing you—well, lots of people, and I’m guessin’ definitely _you_ —just do for people you ain’t pretty damned close to. Showing up out of nowhere to go to the hospital, of all places, and sitting here with someone who once might just have arrested you.” He nods, satisfied, at the expression that crosses Len’s face—yeah, definitely a former felon. “But you coulda let her come here alone. You didn’t. Says a lot.”

Having said his piece, he waits, drinking more coffee, as the other man digests his words. Finally, Len gives one of a those not-quite-a-shrugs again, glancing at him.

“No, I couldn’t have,” he says quietly, responding to Quentin’s last few statements.

Quentin follows the words back, then shrugs himself. “And that there? That’s exactly what I mean.”

“Hmm.”

But Len doesn’t argue or disagree. Instead, he just applies himself to his coffee again, and the men sit in silence for a few long moments.

When the silence is broken again, it’s an answer to an earlier question.

“If I told you,” Len drawls, eyes on the muted TV playing a 24-hour-news channel across the room. “When. It might be sort of hard to believe.”

Quentin eyes him. “Try me.”

That actually gets a faint smirk, but not an actual answer. However, after another minute, he does hear a quiet “I think Sara’s gotta be here for that.”

Quentin acknowledges that with a nod. He’s found himself liking this guy more than he’d expected, given the way the man looks at his baby girl. “So, you got a last name, Len…”

“Snart!”

Both men start, looking up at the front door and the woman standing there, frozen in surprise. Quentin, who’d forgotten Felicity had said she’d show up to check on them, stares at her for a moment before his brain catches up to the name she’d uttered.

“Snart? Leonard… _Snart_?” He turns his head to stare at his coffee companion. “The jewel thief? With the cold gun? The Flash’s bad guy?”

The other man actually looks a touch sheepish, closing his eyes and shaking his head. “I prefer ‘nemesis,’” he mutters, sitting his coffee cup down and getting to his feet, making Felicity take a step back. There’s no actual threat in the motion, though, so Quentin finishes his coffee and continues to merely observe. “Ms. Smoak. You’re looking well.”

“And you’re…you’re…oh, hell, you are too,” the woman stutters, giving him a thorough once-over. “Um. Wait. Didn’t Ol…someone say that you were on that mission with Ray and Sara?” She darts a glance at Quentin. “Is _Sara_ here?”

This is actually getting sorta interesting. Quentin nods, leaning back to regard the scene. “In with Laurel.” He nods toward Leonard. “He came with her. Good of him, I thought.”

The other man glances at him with an odd, opaque expression, while Felicity digests that, staring at the thief and jumping to the semi-obvious conclusion. “Wait. You and _Sara_? I…”

But the door to the interior room opens, then, and the woman in question steps out, expression brightening when she sees them. “Felicity! I didn’t know you were going to be here!” She takes a step forward and gives the startled woman a quick hug, then turns to Leonard, reaching out to take his hand, drawing expressions of bemusement from all three of them.

“She’s already seen the doctor—who says she’s doing well—and the surgeon, who’s just going to talk to her, is running late,” she tells him, tugging his fingers and stepping back toward the door. “I want you to meet Laurel, just briefly, without anyone else around.” She winks at Felicity, who’s still staring.

Leonard gives them one last glance before Sara pulls him through the door. Felicity continues to gape. Quentin just shrugs. This is his life now.

Could be worse.

* * *

Sara pulls Leonard down the hallway behind her, blowing past the nurses’ station in a way that has him thinking with amusement about the old rule about acting like you belong somewhere, and how other people will assume you do, too. It’s definitely a rule for a stealthy crook, and likely for assassins.

“Your friend there just, ah, ratted me out,” he says carefully, even as he trails her. “To your dad.”

Sara glances back at him as she keeps moving. “Felicity? Oh, that’s right; you saw her in Central, didn’t you? Way back in the beginning.”

“You could say that…”

But she’s stopped at a door now, and raps on it once, twice, before opening it a crack and peeking in. Whatever she sees, it makes her nod in satisfaction and step in, pulling Leonard behind her.

The woman sitting almost primly in the wheelchair in the room doesn’t really look anything like Sara, no more than Lisa looks like him. Her face is a different shape, her eyes a different color, and her hair is darker. Still, there’s something about them both that screams that these two are family. Maybe something around the eyes.

That and the considering, very big-sister look she’s leveling at him. That too.

“Laurel,” Sara says just a little breathlessly, “this is Leonard. Len, my sister Laurel.”

The attorney and the crook regard each other. Len’s pretty sure that between the awkwardness of meeting Sara’s all-too-perceptive father and the surprise of Smoak dropping his identity right out there like that, he’s already looking a little unsettled…or at least, not quite as chill as usual. But, for Sara, he meets Laurel Lance’s steady gaze with something far more serious than his habitual smirk, squaring his shoulders and trying to look less…crook-like.

Laurel takes pity on him after a moment and smiles.

“Do you prefer Leonard?” she says, looking him up and down in a clinical sort of fashion. “Or Len?” Then, almost casually, “Mr. Snart.”

Again with the identity. He glances at Sara, who looks unsurprised—well, her sister is an attorney as well as a superhero—then back at Laurel.

“Len is fine,” he says. “Always pleased to meet a fan.”

Laurel’s lips twitch as Sara snorts. “I don’t know that I’m a fan…yet,” she returns. “Although I will say ‘thank you’ for being here with her.” She nods at Sara, who’s suddenly staring at her, looking a bit less comfortable. “It couldn’t have been that easy, given different…backgrounds. I appreciate that.”

Leonard looks back at Sara, briefly considering diverting the moment with his usual flippancy, then decides against it. “It wasn’t really a question,” he says quietly. “Been through a lot together. Take a long time to tell you how much.”

Sara’s eyes go soft, in a way that’s distinctly unlike her, and for a moment, the long months together in 1958 are there with them, how they’d grown together, along with all the trials since and his near-miss at the Oculus. Len gazes back steadily, trying to put the words he’s only managed to say a few times in his eyes, and wondering, yet again, how she’d respond to a certain particular…offer of partnership…

But there’s someone else in the room with them, and Sara remembers it first, unsurprisingly. She glances back at Laurel, clearing her throat, and Len belatedly does so as well.

Laurel looks…well, she looks stunned, really, but not in a way Leonard had expected. There’s a smile dancing in her eyes as she regards them and an oddly satisfied look on her face. She sighs, and then starts to speak…

There’s another rap on the door then, and a woman in a white doctor’s coat pushes it open.

* * *

Sara’s dealt with a lot, over the years, and just kept going. But now, here, she’s feeling just a bit of emotional whiplash. Seeing her father…and then Laurel, alive but still dealing with injury…knowing now that she would have, could have died…

And then there’s the way Leonard had been looking at her just now, with the heart he’d once denied having in his eyes (in front of an audience, no less) and she’s still dealing with nearly losing him at the Vanishing Point. Still wondering what’s next for them. Still…

But now there’s someone else there and she takes a deep breath, trying to center herself.

The doctor, if she notices the tension in the room, doesn’t show it. “And how’s my name twin today?” she says, looking at Laurel before eyeing the other two people in the room, who blink at her.

Laurel catches herself, chuckling a bit, and nods to the doctor. “Well, Dr. Harrington. Sorry, I have guests.”

“I see. Well, they should head back out now.” Her voice is kind, but the tone is definite. “This won’t take very long.”

But Sara knows she has a distinctly odd expression on her face as she studies the other woman, then glances at Len, who’s frowning at her too. Dr. Harrington seems to notice their distraction and studies them in return.

With a very distinct set of green eyes, incongruous in her dark face.

“Dr. Harrington,” Sara says after a moment, taking a leap of faith, suddenly frighteningly sure she knows a very important _why_. “This is sort of weird, but…what’s your mother’s name?”

The woman raises an eyebrow but apparently decides to indulge the odd question. “Amy,” she says after a moment. “Amy May Harrington…I kept the surname when I married. Why…”

“And your full name?” Leonard’s tone is maybe a little too direct, and the surgeon frowns at him, even as Sara’s mind tumbles the pieces together.

_Two small faces, brown with striking green eyes._

_The newly dubbed Dorothy, Amy and Anne May … heading for the now-Starling City with a new life ahead of them._

_“Changing even small things in time, it causes…ripples. And those ripples grow as they spread."_

_“Young Anne May went on to not only save lives, but to teach others to do so. … And her sister! _Her_  two daughters…a trauma surgeon in Star City and a defense attorney in National.”_

“Dr. Laurel Anne Harrington,” Sara’s Laurel supplies, giving them a quizzical look. “Hence, ‘name twin.’ What’s going on?”

_“Do you have a sister?”_ a small voice asks in Sara’s memory.

_"I do," Sara confirms. "An older one. Her name is Laurel."_

_"That's a pretty name."_

Rip’s voice, earlier: “ _The thing is, that’s not what the original…situation was…”_

“Oh,” Sara says, staring at the trauma surgeon who’d caught a problem no one else had and saved her sister’s life. “Oh, I know what changed.”

“We did,” Leonard says quietly, moving to stand next to her, a solid, warm, reassuring presence. “Dr. Harrington. Did your grandmother or mother…or your aunt… ever mention their time in Orange City?”

* * *

When Leonard pushes the door open to the main waiting area, he’s a little pleased to note that there is not, in fact, an array of armed police officers waiting for him. He’d read Sara’s father right, then. And Smoak hadn’t managed to convince the man otherwise.

She’s still sitting there, next to Quentin Lance, who’s leaning back again his seat and looking unperturbed, although Smoak still looks a little unsettled to see him. Or…maybe not unsettled. Maybe…intrigued? Both?

He turns back, holding the door as Laurel, expertly steering her chair, follows him. Sara had looked at the piece of equipment with unease, but her sister had laughed at her.

“For now, it lets me gets around,” she said, patting it almost affectionately. “I get unsteady very quickly without it. It’s freedom.”

Leonard’s found himself liking Laurel Lance quite a bit. She’s pragmatic in a way he appreciates. And she loves her sister, and they have that in common.

“…so you…what? Met her family? While on your…ah, mission?” At the moment, though, she’s still sounding rather surprised by their unexpected connection to Dr. Harrington, who’d known enough family lore to be stunned herself by what Len and Sara had told her—which wasn’t _everything_ but was enough. For now.

“It’s even more complicated than that, actually. I’ll tell you all about it.” A shadow crosses Sara’s face a moment as she follows her sister out into the waiting room, and Leonard knows she’s thinking about what Rip had told them about the original timeline. “More or less.” She shakes her head roughly as Laurel tilts her head back to regard her. “Not now.”

Quentin stands at the sight of them, and if his gaze is a little sharper while fixed on the man his younger daughter had brought home, well, Len actually appreciates that the man gives a shit about his kids. His gaze drops as Sara reaches out and possessively takes Len’s hand in hers, but then darts to Laurel with both worry and hope.

“Well?” he asks, trying for a casual tone and not quite managing it. “They have anything to say? I mean, I know I think you might want to take it a little easier…but that’s just me…”

Laurel chuckles. “I’m doing absolutely fine, dad,” she tells him gently. “And exercise is good. I’m building strength.”

“Huh.” The noise is noncommittal. “I don’ know, honey, I worry…”

Leonard hastily steps back from the father-daughter debate as Sara comes to her sister’s defense, nearly bumping into Smoak, who has, to his mild surprise, managed to sneak up on him. He folds his arms and tries to decide if it’s better to look intimidating or approachable, but he’s pretty sure he just winds up looking a little uncomfortable.

Smoak eyes him, then, unexpectedly, smiles.

“Well, well, well,” she says in a voice that’s almost an echo of his own drawl. “Fancy this. Last time I saw you, I certainly wouldn’t have predicted _this_.”

Len eyes her in return, uncertainly. He is, quite frankly, quite at a loss about how to handle this woman who’s seen him in full alter-ego Cold mode. She could truly exert quite a bit of force in turning Sara’s father against him…and he’s found, a little unexpectedly, that he really doesn’t want that, and not only for Sara’s sake. He’s pretty sure there’s nothing Smoak could tell Sara about who he’d been that she doesn’t already know—but he doesn’t want to risk that, either.

“What’s it gonna take for you not to tell your boyfriend about this before Sara does?” he drawls instead.

Felicity folds her arms in return and gives him a pitying look. “I wouldn’t do that to Sara,” she chides him. “You, maybe.” She nibbles her lip a little. “I’m the last person to say people can’t change, but you have to admit, this is a little…weird. When I last saw you, you were trying to kill Ba…the Flash. And now you’re here. _Weird_.”

“You can say that again,” Leonard mutters fervently, then smirks.

“I wasn’t _trying_ to kill Barry Allen,” he adds. “Yes, yes, I know who he is. And if I’d really been trying, he’d be dead.” He raises his eyebrows at her expression. “And no vacuum cleaner with bells and whistles would have stopped me.”

Felicity blinks at him, then sighs, almost smiling. “I told them…”

But Sara breaks in herself then, looking from her friend to her lover and back again. “You both behaving yourselves?” she asks with amusement.

“Yes!” Felicity says immediately, even as Len says “Nope” at the very same moment. Sara laughs as Felicity mock-glares at him, then takes his arm, turning them both as Quentin and Laurel watch with mixed amounts of amusement.

“You, ah, going to stick around a little bit?” Quentin asks, looking from Len to Sara and focusing on her. “Need a place to stay? Got the spare room…and a couch…”

Leonard tries not to let his feelings about that show on his face, even as Laurel smirks a little and Felicity giggles. Sara just squeezes his arm.

“We’re going to get a hotel room,” she tells her father breezily, “and yes, we’ll be here at least another day or two.” A hesitation. “The mission…it’s not done yet. We’re both going back.”

Quentin makes a noise of disappointment as they all move for the door and out into the sunshine but Felicity and Laurel both nod.

“Of course you are,” Sara’s sister says quietly, steering her wheelchair through the door. “I’m glad you were able to visit, though.”

“Same. But why in the middle of the mission?” Felicity wonders out loud, pausing as she starts to move off toward the guest lot. “Is everyone OK? Ray?”

Leonard’s suddenly reminded that this woman used to date Ray Palmer, and he decides he’s not going to be the one to tell her of the man’s multiple changes in status. But Sara’s arm tightens on his, and he glances at her, also remembering in part why Rip had insisted they get a break and be absolutely sure they’re still in.

“Yes, but we had a really narrow miss,” Sara says, the echoes of stress in her voice. “To make the story short, Leonard,” she glances at him, “was a big damn hero and nearly got blown up. Rip…the captain…wanted to be sure we didn’t have second thoughts.”

The other three stare at them. Len shrugs uncomfortably. He didn’t do it to be a hero, he thinks grumpily. It’s just that _someone_ had to.

But he also knows what Sara says about that.

“Stop using that word,” he says in a joking tone to Sara, trying to defuse the tension in the air. “You know how I feel about that.”

But while she smirks at him, there’s remembered worry in her gaze, and he hates it. He brings his other hand up and squeezes her arm, trying to assure her that he won’t, as he’d promised, try such a thing again.

“Damn,” Quentin says finally, shaking his head. “I think we need to hear more about these adventures.” He eyes Len, and there’s a sparkle of admiration in his eyes that the former crook finds oddly warming. “Meet back at the house? Or…ah…the _other_ place?”

“Give us a little while,” Sara tells him, squeezing Len’s arm in return. “But we’ll be there. How about the other place? Since we don’t have _that_ long. Get a few meetings over with.”

If any of them have any second thoughts about showing this criminal in their midst the secret Arrow lair—or so Len presumes that’s what they’re talking about—they don’t show it. Quentin nods and moves off to get the car as Felicity hugs Sara, eyes Len again, and moves off to her own vehicle. Sara and Leonard wait with Laurel, who studies him with a considering look before smiling again.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this,” she murmurs to Sara, jokingly acting like Leonard can’t hear her, “but I like him.” Another low chuckle. “Does he have a brother?”

Leonard snorts at that, even as Sara laughs.

“Sort of,” she says cheerfully. “What do you think, Len? What would Mick say?”

The sisters laugh at his expression so hard that Quentin, arriving at the curb, demands to know what’s so funny.

They don’t tell him. Yet.


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promised two more chapters! The third will be coming soon.

Leonard Snart walks into the so-called Arrowcave both uneasy and smug, side by side with Sara Lance, trying to act like he has no doubt whatsoever about his right to be there.

He doesn’t. Really, he doesn’t. Even if he has eschewed the idea of being a hero, he knows that he’d done something necessary (even if it’s not heroic, no matter what Sara says) in destroying the Oculus. That’s gotta earn him some points, right? Not that he needs points.

He doesn’t need points. And he doesn’t…

Oh, hell. He does. He _does_ doubt his right to be here.

But damned if he’s going to show that.

He lags back a little as Sara sees her sister and father in the cavernous, tech-filled room and moves forward, calling to them. There’s a lot of things in the space he’s pretty sure no crook is meant to see, such as weapons racks and uniforms, and Leonard scans the space as if he’s pretty sure someone’s watching him, waiting for him to screw up.

Well, if they are, they’re not there at the moment. He joins Sara, who’s talking earnestly to Laurel, glancing uncomfortably at Quentin.

They’re a little late because Sara had decided to jump him as soon as they’d checked into their hotel. And that’s sort of a pleasant but uncomfortable memory to carry with him as he encounters Sara’s father again. He’s not used to dealing with parents—Alexa had hated hers as much as he’d hated Lewis (at least if she’d been telling the truth, for once) and he’d never met Daniel’s, and every other relationship, such as they were, hadn’t precisely been the “meet-the-parents” sort.

Quentin does eye him, momentarily, as if he suspects Leonard’s uncertainty—and potentially some of why--but then he focuses again on his girls, and the heat’s off Leonard. He sighs, then glances around before looking back at Sara and Laurel.

“So. Cold.”

Leonard very nearly yelps. He glares at Felicity Smoak, who’d appeared smugly near his left elbow, smiling at him. He truly must have been distracted.

“I trust Sara,” she says casually. “But you’ll still have to convince Oliver.”

Leonard flicks her a glance. His first instinct is to say that he doesn’t give a fuck what Oliver Queen thinks. But…perhaps Sara does. And he’s willing to do a lot, for her.

“Ok,” he says cautiously. “For Sara, I’ll try.”

Something flickers in Smoak’s eyes. She sighs, then actually smiles at him.

“That’s sweet,” she murmurs. “You’ve changed, haven’t you?”

Leonard tilts his head, frowning. It might be true, but he’ll be damned if he admits it. “Not really,” he drawls, parking his hip against a desk and leaning, crossing his ankles. “Just got a different crew.”

“Mmhmm.” Smoak’s rather obviously not buying it—but she lets it go, to his relief, moving past him and on to chatter at Sara and Laurel about dinner, be it takeout or a restaurant. Leonard hopes rather fervently for takeout, then sighs again, quietly, glancing around the room.

He supposes that he had envisioned something more like Team Flash’s STAR Labs—which is really a bit silly when he thinks about it. This place is a lot—darker. No surprise, really. And the security is better, which just makes it a rather intriguing challenge.

Not that the STAR Labs security is really all _that_ bad. He’s just properly motivated to make it look like it is, for the sterling reason of, well, yanking Team Flash’s collective chain.

Is that going to change now that he’s a sort-of good guy? Leonard sighs to himself. Well, he’ll just have to get creative.

Not long after that, Sara (perhaps realizing that he’s thoroughly casing the Arrowcave in the absence of other entertainment) wanders back over to him, grinning. He smiles to see how happy she looks, and allows her to take his hand and haul him over to where Laurel is talking to Felicity at a cluster of desks. (Quentin is in a corner talking on his phone.)

Both women stop talking and watch them as they approach, grinning at their linked hands, and Leonard grasps for equanimity. He’s not used to being watched like he’s something adorable. Dangerous, yes. Hot, occasionally. Adorable, not so much.

But he doesn’t pull his hand away.

Felicity opens her mouth, smirking, but Laurel gives her a quelling glance and she closes it again, looking disappointed.

“Takeout OK?” Laurel asks Leonard, who tries not to let his relief show. “I think it’s just going to be the five of us getting dinner…well, if Ollie ever gets here. John is off being a family man tonight, Curtis actually wants to see his husband, and Thea has a date.” She sighed, stretching her arms over her head. “It’s been a rough few months. It’s nice to finally get a breath of air.”

“I want to hear more about that later,” Sara tells her seriously, letting go of Leonard’s hand and boosting herself up to sit on an empty desk. “I mean, we came pretty close to being part of a nuclear disaster ourselves, back in 1975 Norway.” She bites her lip. “Sounds like you came a lot closer.”

“You have no idea,” Felicity says fervently. “Um? Norway? What...”

Sara happily starts telling them about how she and Leonard, with Mick and Stein, had arrived at the arms deal in Norway and how Stein, to everyone’s or no one’s surprise, had wound up being the loose cannon of the bunch. Leonard relaxes a little, enjoying the opportunity to add the occasional snark and pithy comment to the story. By the time Quentin wanders back, though, the other women are starting to eye Leonard speculatively, obviously wondering how he and Sara had become…whatever they are…and Leonard’s starting to shuffle uneasily under the regard.

It’s almost a relief when Quentin looks at him, raising an eyebrow….and after a moment, clears his throat.

“So,” he says, looking at Leonard, “gonna go upstairs and wait for the pizza. Want some fresh air?”

Leonard agrees with far more alacrity than he’d ever thought possible.

* * *

“So,” Felicity whispers, “how the heck did…ah… _this_ happen?”

Sara smiles to herself, watching Leonard wander off with her father—truly a sight she’d never thought she’d be seeing. Then she glances back at Felicity and Laurel, raising an eyebrow.

“What?” she asks archly.

Laurel just continues to smile, but Felicity rolls her eyes dramatically.

“This!” she whispers loudly. “You and Cold guy there.” She pauses until Quentin and Leonard have left the room, then raises her voice. “I mean, you are…um. Right?”

“Um?” Sara stares at her, trying to look innocent. “Translate, please?”

The other woman throws up her hands in frustration. “You know what I mean! Sleeping together. Knocking boots. Shagging. Um…I know more, give me a moment.”

But Sara’s laughing too hard. “Yes, OK? Yes, we are.” She shakes her head, wiping the tears from her eyes. “Long story. Sure you want it right now?”

Felicity looks like she’s going to explode, but Laurel just shakes her head slowly.

“It’s more than that, though,” she says, watching her sister. “Isn’t it?”

Sara smiles at her serenely. “Yes,” she agrees, though she doesn’t elaborate—she’s still not sure how to define things right now. “Anyway, we were starting to become…friends, I guess, thought it was a little more than that…even before, but then we got stuck together.” She tapped her fingers on the desk. “For nearly a year. In 1958.”

Felicity gaped at her. “Sara,” she says a little disapprovingly, “don’t tell me you went all Suzie Homemaker on us.”

That gets her a roll of the eyes. “I helped abused women learn martial arts and went patrolling with Kathy Kane in Gotham,” Sara informs her. “And helped Leonard rob a business owner who was a racist dick.”

Felicity brightens. “OK, that’s the Sara I know and love. Awww. Was it all Bonnie and Clyde?”

Neither of the other two will ever understand completely why those words make Sara go still, then smile a little, shaking her head. “No,” she says after a moment. “Leonard said leaning on thieving too much wasn’t really sustainable, unless we wanted to keep moving around. And we wanted the Waverider to be able to find us.”

She pauses to figure out what to tell them. “Len started a security system business. Eventually, we settled down in Orange City. Made friends. Helped people. Visited…oh, yeah, Ray and Kendra were there, too, in 1958.” She hesitates, wondering if it should be their news to tell. “They’re married now. And they have a 1-year-old son. It’s kind of a long story.”

Felicity and Laurel are just staring at her. Felicity has her hands over her mouth, but then slowly lowers them, shaking her head.

“None of this,” she whispers, “is anything I really expected when I heard you were going time-traveling.”

“Well, to be fair, it wasn’t what I expected either.” Sara thinks about it another moment. “There were some more typical hijinks, I guess you’d say.” She decides it’s not worth mentioning Star City in 2046. “Oh! We all visited the Old West. That was interesting. As were the ‘70s. And a few points in the future. That was…well, not as interesting as you’d think. But…” She shakes her head and smiles at Laurel. “I’m glad you talked me into going.”

Laurel’s smile is warm and pleased, and the two sisters share a look of understanding as Felicity sighs.

“I’m really happy for Ray,” she says. “But…a 1-year-old son? How does that work? You’ve only been gone a few months.”

“The same way Leonard and I spent nearly a year in 1958.”

“I get that, but…” The other woman throws her hands up and turns around. “Y’know what? I’m not going to think about it. It happened, it’s done, mazel tov. Oooh, what do I get as a baby gift?”

She walks over to her desk and logs into the computer, muttering to herself, and Sara shakes her head, grinning. She glances back at Laurel, who’s looking quite thoughtful.

“And the whole ‘big damn hero’ thing you mentioned?” Laurel asks quietly.

Sara doesn’t really want to get into all the Time Masters were capable, or the ultimate truth of their mission. So she just shrugs.

“He should have died,” she says just as quietly. “He didn’t. Like Felicity said: it happened, it’s done. We were lucky.”

* * *

Much to Leonard’s surprise, he quickly decides he really does like Quentin Lance, despite the whole cop—former cop—thing. The man isn’t beyond giving Leonard a bit of an interrogation, but it’s rather more…well, thoughtful…then expected, and he certainly doesn’t seem to feel the need to fill silence with chatter when they’re not talking.

When the delivery person gets there, Quentin pays him, and they take the food and head back down to the so-called Arrowcave. Smoak is engrossed in her computer, and Sara and Laurel are talking quietly. The scene quickly devolves into a cheerful familial scramble for food, though, something that has Leonard—who’s never precisely had what would be considered a normal, if that even exists, family—a bit befuddled before he acclimates.

(The closest he has, of course, are Lisa and Mick, and no one, not even Leonard, gets in the way when Mick is hungry. Or, sometimes, Lisa.)

He sits and fastidiously eats his pizza while listening silently, bemused at the sisterly (amongst all three of them, actually) banter. Quentin occasionally interjects a comment or two, sometimes in a way that invites Leonard to contribute too, and that’s surprisingly warming,

Some part of him can’t figure it out. Why would the other man bother to do this? Especially to the crook (probably closer in age to him than Sara) who’s involved with his beloved young daughter? He keeps looking at Quentin out of the corner of his eye, wondering.

He’s still uncertain when he gets up, taking his own paper plates and those of a few others and wandering toward the garbage can at the other side of the facility while the others continue to talk. And no sooner has he dumped the refuse than he hears quiet footsteps approaching, and looks up, tensing, as a figure approaches through the darker recesses of the Arrowcave.

The other man stops in his tracks, eyes narrowed, watching Leonard with a laser focus that makes the hairs rise on the back of his neck. One, because this man is deadly, and every instinct Leonard has is telling him that. Two, because…

Oh. Oh, hell. Oliver Queen is attractive. Yeah, that’s not something Leonard really wants to think about. Nor admit to Sara…who knows him well enough to guess anyway.

The other man looks past to regard the others—who certainly don’t look alarmed—and then focuses back on Leonard, apparently deciding that he’s not worth violence—yet.

“You’re Leonard Snart.” The tone is clipped and unforgiving. And certain. Queen may be surprised at his presence here, but he knows perfectly well who Leonard is. Uncanny.

“I’m aware.” Leonard gives Queen a humorless smile. “Arrow. Hello.”

The other man just watches him with that cold, calm, focused look. Then he speaks again: “Where’s your partner in crime?”

He clearly means Mick, but Leonard can’t resist messing with him. “Over there,” he informs the other man, tilting his head toward Sara.

Queen’s eyes flick toward Sara and he actually blinks as he registers Leonard’s meaning, which is kind of satisfying. But then those eyes narrow again and dart back, and his scowl deepens.

Leonard regretfully decides to stop messing with him. For now. Sort of. “Oh,” he drawls, “you mean Mick Rory.”

Queen’s eyes narrow further—if that’s even possible. “The arsonist,” he grits out.

Leonard feels a surge of protectiveness for Mick. “He’s back in Central City,” he says, lifting his chin and regarding the other man. “Presumably pestering Barry Allen or continuing to eat the Steins out of house and home.”

That’s not what Queen expected, clearly, and It knocks him out of his scowling mood. He stares at Leonard, then lifts his head as Felicity and Sara both call his name. With a rough shake of his head, he leaves Leonard alone, moving toward them, and Leonard shrugs, turning to watch him.

Sara rises, smiling, wrapping her arms around Queen in a way that provokes a flicker of jealously from Leonard, even as he knows it shouldn’t. He sidles slowly toward the group, ignoring the whisper of “Snart” he hears from Queen and trusting Sara to explain.

It’s a bit unnerving. But he’d sworn he’d try, and this is part of that. Right?

To his immense relief and surprise, though, Laurel wheels over toward him, then, watching him with understanding eyes.

“Let them talk,” she says under her breath. “Trust me.”

Leonard stops in his tracks, watching her too. This is so far outside his realm of experience that he’s truly not sure what to do. So, he decides, the least he can do is listen.

“All right,” he drawls uncomfortably. “I...ah.” He glances around, wondering what he can do or where he can go that he won’t be looked at suspiciously, by Queen at least. That’s not something he’s used to giving a fuck about.

Laurel takes pity on him again. She nods matter-of-factly, then starts wheeling herself past him, toward a corner of the huge room. “I need to do some PT exercises,” she tosses back at him. “I could use a spotter. Can you do it?”

Leonard blinks. Once. Twice. Then he follows her toward the corner in tacit agreement, a bit bemused.

“I’m here a lot now that I can move around a bit more, and there’s more room here anyway,” Laurel explains as she carefully maneuvers over to the wall and reaches out to grab a bar fastened to the wall. (Leonard hovers a bit awkwardly, but she seems perfectly adept at moving about slowly.) “Made sense to have a set-up here.” She winks at him as she levers herself out of the wheelchair. “And Dad can’t hover as much if he’s distracted by everything else going on.”

Leonard involuntarily glances over his shoulder, but Felicity is showing Quentin something on her computer and….and he can’t see Sara and Oliver. He stifles another unwanted spurt of jealousy and looks quickly back at Laurel, who’s leaning there watching him with an element of….not sympathy, he hates sympathy…but empathy, anyway.

She doesn’t say anything about it, though, taking a careful step forward, then another. Leonard puts his hands behind his back, trying not to think about what Laurel’s sister and father will do to him if he lets her fall. Not that he’s “letting” her do anything. He has a feeling “letting” Laurel do something is rather like “letting” Sara do something. It just doesn’t work that way.

“I’m seeing a physical therapist, of course,” Laurel says a bit clinically as she moves along the wall and Leonard watches, “and that’s where a lot of the really exhausting work comes in. Not that this can’t be. But I do try to do a little here every day. It seems to help.”

Leonard figures he should say something. Right? Isn’t that what normal…family members…and friends do? “Good,” he says. “Uh.” He doesn’t want to be the one to tell her about the original timeline. “You’re doing pretty well. For…from what I’ve heard.”

Laurel quirks an eyebrow at him. It’s an expression very like her sister’s. “I am, I think,” she says, keeping much of her concentration on her movements. “Don’t know if my balance will ever be quite the same. And changing speed is…hard.” She pauses, a quiet interlude in which Leonard’s suddenly sure that she’s telling him things that…that maybe she hasn’t told _real_ family. “And it hurts. I’m frighteningly used to that. That’s background noise, now.”

Leonard watches her intently. “Why are you telling _me_?” he asks quietly as she reaches the end of her walk up and down the wall and turns, slowly lowering herself into the wheelchair with a sigh. “I’m…well. I’m not…family.” Yet. He barely dares think that.

Laurel turns her head, actually smiling at him despite some clear pain and fatigue. “Because you won’t go all…” She considers a moment. “…protective on me.” She eyes him, a gleam of odd understanding in her gaze. “You get the idea of pressing on, I think.”

Then she changes the subject. He thinks. “You have a sister, Sara said.”

“Yes,” he tells her cautiously. “Lisa.” He pauses as she turns the wheelchair toward him. “Can’t say I’m not protective of her…in our own way…”

That gets a chuckle. “But you get it,” Laurel says intently, watching him. “I don’t want to be wrapped in cotton. I’m still _me_.”

Leonard thinks of the notion of wrapping Lisa in cotton…and shudders. “Yeah.”

Laurel nods, satisfied. “Well, then.” She studies Leonard. “I can see why you and Sara hit it off.”

He snorts. “Because I’d never wrap her in cotton?”

“That’s part of it,” Laurel agrees. “More that I daresay the notion would never even occur to you. And...” She pauses. “...you’ll never try to ‘fix’ her.”

Leonard’s chin snaps up. “She’s not _broken_.” She’s just like him. A survivor.

But Laurel’s nodding. “And that’s exactly what I mean.”

* * *

Oliver Queen is a stubborn asshole. But Sara’s known that, and him, for a long time, and he knows her in return. By the time she finishes telling him some, at least, of what she’s been up to with the Legends and he finishes filling her in on the events in Star City over the past few months, he hasn’t precisely thawed toward Leonard—but he’s tacitly agreed not to be too overt over it until he gives the former crook a chance.

Or at least he understands that Sara will happily kick his ass if he persists in staring accusatorily at the other man. Either works.

They eventually head back into the main room after wandering around the complex for a while. Sara doesn’t see Leonard immediately and casts about, momentarily concerned. Then she spies him—apparently talking quite earnestly to Laurel, as odd as that seems.

Laurel looks weary but is smiling, and Sara studies her intently, wondering again if she should say something about the other timeline. She really doesn’t want to.

Maybe she should just do it.

Maybe she shouldn’t.

At the moment, at least, Sara just decides to let it go.

As she gets closer, she hears Leonard speak.

“…miss it?” he asks quietly, watching Laurel.

Huh. Sara’s steps slow as she listens for the answer.

“I do,” she hears her sister say seriously. “I expect I always will. But…now I can focus on other things. And…who knows? Maybe I can help train a successor. There should be a Black Canary in Star City.”

Sara feels a surge of…guilt? …as she hears those words. Laurel had become the Black Canary because of her, because Sara had died and left the city without a Canary…and she’d paid the price. And now Sara was abandoning her city again, heading back out on the Waverider, and…

But then Leonard glances up as she approaches, and his eyes lighten a little as he sees her. Sara smiles at him, and she hears Laurel’s thoughtful noise as she registers that look. But she doesn’t say anything more, and neither does Sara.

Yet.

“You OK?” Sara asks Leonard cautiously. “Sorry for vanishing. Had to talk to Ollie.”

Laurel makes a noise that’s rather Snart-like, but she doesn’t say anything more. Leonard glances at a her, a smile lurking around the corners of his mouth, then back at Sara.

“Fine,” he drawls…and she can tell from his voice, he is. “Talking about annoying little sisters.”

Laurel snickers, then, and Sara rolls her eyes even as she can’t help smiling.

“Laugh it up, you two,” she tells them, unable to keep how very pleased she is to see them getting along from her voice. “Wait ‘til I team up with Lisa.”

Leonard looks somewhat alarmed at that, and Laurel tilts her head. “You haven’t met yet?” she asks, looking at Leonard. He looks a little sheepish.

“She’s not in the city… in Central City,” he mutters. “Thought I’d track her down after…after it’s done, the Savage thing.”

Laurel makes a noise of sympathy before Sara can interject. And then Ollie interrupts them all, voice terse in a way that speaks of restrained profanity.

“We’re going to have to call in the others,” he says, staring at Felicity’s computer screen. “Laurel…”

“Why?” Sara asks sharply, turning.

Oliver gives her a distracted frown. “We’ve been watching for this drug lord to come back into the city,” he says absently. “We ran him out last time, but his kind never stays away for long. He’s out of warnings, and I’m not going to let him hurt any more people. I need backup….”

“And you _have_ it.”

* * *

It’s obvious, what Sara’s thinking…well, maybe it’s obvious to anyone other than Oliver Queen. Her eyes are shining, and there’s an impish and eager smile on her lips—and a little of the sheer joy in physical mayhem Leonard loves seeing in her. Queen glances back over at her thoughtfully, then nods.

“I still need a third,” he says, “so…”

It abruptly occurs to Leonard that the other man is assuming that Leonard will, apparently, just watch Sara go trotting off to fight drug lords without him. And he would, of course, if he thought that’s what Sara wanted, but he’s pretty darned sure it’s not.

Oh, fuck _this_.

“A- _hem_ ,” he drawls, noting Sara’s grin, quickly hidden. “A third _what_?”

Queen blinks and looks at him, as if he’s forgotten Leonard’s even there. Then his expression darkens a little, and he opens his mouth…

Sara growls. That’s really the only word for it. It’s a warning and a claim, and Queen’s face goes blank again even as Leonard has a distinctly different (but quite visceral) reaction. He hears both Felicity and Laurel snicker in the background, but he keeps his expression merely inquiring with an edge of smug.

“Fine,” Queen says finally. He doesn’t sound happy, but he doesn’t sound too unhappy either. Too practical. Leonard can respect that. “You want in? You’re in. But I’m calling the shots.” He steps back and waves at the computer. Felicity loses her smirk and suddenly looks very serious.

Leonard nods to him, glances at Sara, who looks calm and not too surprised, and moves forward. “You know the terrain,” he drawls, “and the players. Fill us in.”

* * *

Sara knows Ollie well. But she finds she’s a little surprised that he lets Leonard in on things without more of a protest. Even with the talking-to she’d given him earlier.

But then, he’s always been pragmatic. Like Leonard. A _lot_ like Leonard in some ways. And holy hell, she’s not going to examine that too much.

Oliver, speaking in clipped, precise terms, gives them the background and the people involved as Sara and Leonard watch the computer screen. He has maps and diagrams and all those things Leonard likes to study when planning something, and Sara can see Leonard’s natural desire to give the other man grief fading in pursuit of the puzzle. He asks questions, but they’re good ones, not ones designed to annoy, and Sara can also see Oliver’s natural inclination to mistrust the crook fading in that light.

Well, what do you know?

Sara and Leonard have left their gear back at their hotel room, so as soon as the light starts fading, they make plans to meet Oliver at the scene, and withdraw. Getting back out of the hotel in full Captain Cold and White Canary gear (though Leonard eschews his parka for his usual leather jacket) is a challenge, but they manage, and they meet Oliver in the warehouse district as promised.

The goggled man with the cold gun and the archer in green give each other a once-over, and Sara rolls her eyes. Still, being here in her home city and time again makes her a little uneasy without a mask herself, so she puts on the black silk one she’d brought along from her Canary days—just in case.

Leonard studies her and nods. Oliver’s already paying more attention to the quiet, dark area in front of them.

“Why do bad guys like deserted warehouses so much?” he mutters—and then glances at Leonard. The suggestion is clear, and Sara starts to bristle. But Leonard just tosses the other man a smirk.

“Anonymity,” he drawls. “They all look alike. And who the hell wants to hang around one voluntarily? Easier to keep an eye on the area.” He shrugs, checking the cold gun’s charge. “Never much my style.”

But then there’s a flurry of activity in front of them, and there’s no more time for banter. Oliver glances at them, but apparently decides that he’s in for a penny, and he might as well trust them both. He jerks his chin at the building, and Sara and Leonard exchange a glance before both heading off to opposite sides, to cover two other entrances/exits and make themselves available for backup as Oliver, being Oliver, barrels right in the front.

It all goes rather more smoothly than Sara expects.

* * *

“Did he wet himself?” Sara asks rather gleefully as they regroup a bit later, on a rooftop not so far from the Arrowcave, just to make sure they’re not pursued by either police nor gang members. “He looked like he wet himself.” She laughs again, an open, free sound that makes Leonard smile, as she turns slowly, looking out at the city.

Queen gives her a small smile as he checks his weaponry. “I didn’t ask.” He’d put an arrow right between the man’s legs as the would-be drug lord had lounged on a chair that might as well have been a throne, there in the middle of the operation. The aim had impressed even Leonard. “But I wouldn’t be surprised.”

Sara laughs again. She gazes out over her city with an almost propriety expression that makes a pang go through Leonard’s heart, for some reason. “Well,” she says with satisfaction, “given that it sent him running out right into the arms of the SCPD, it probably doesn’t really matter. If he thinks he’s safer in Iron Heights, at least he’s not here.”

Queen makes a noise of agreement, but he’s going through the arrows in his quiver now, not paying much attention to them. Sara turns to Leonard, her eyes still gleaming. “Have fun?” she asks archly, moving closer. “I know you’re no fonder of that sort than Oliver is.”

From the corner of his eye, Leonard can see Queen’s attention briefly diverted toward them, but he ignores it, watching Sara, a smirk spreading over his face as she saunters toward him. “I did,” he drawls, choosing to keep his hands to himself as she moves closer. “It had its...cathartic...elements.”

“Hmm.” She stops, looking up at him. “So did I.” Her lashes dip, and she looks up through them. “Lots of adrenaline.”

Queen, behind them and feet away, clears his throat, but they both ignore his apparent discomfort.

“Oh?” Leonard slowly lifts a hand and curls a finger under Sara’s chin, tilting it gently upward. “And what do you think we should do with that?”

Instead of answering in words, she reaches up and snakes a hand around behind his head, pulling him downward a fraction even as she goes up on her toes a little, and kisses him.

Neither of them sees the nearby flash.


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTHING happens to Baby Sara on my watch! *nods* Thanks to LarielRomeniel for the beta!

It’s late by the time they get back to the hotel, sneaking in like teenagers, but Sara’s still so full of adrenaline that she makes quite good on the promise of that kiss. Later, Leonard somewhat groggily asks for the number of the truck that hit him—though he does it with a pleased smirk on his face—before falling quite soundly asleep, and Sara follows soon afterward, still entwined with him on the far-bigger-than-Waverider-quarters king bed.

She sleeps soundly herself, waking by the time she’d planned to and rising quietly. Leonard only utters a sleepy murmur, but he opens his eyes a little by the time she returns, showered and dressed.

“Going somewhere?” he mutters, reaching for her. Sara evades him easily, but then leans back over to kiss him.

“I told you,” she reminds him. “I’m going to see Dig and Lyla and baby Sara, and then to lunch with Thea.”

Leonard blinks, but then she sees memory rise in his eyes again. “Right.” He pushes himself up on an elbow. Sara hums appreciatively as the sheet falls aside a bit, giving her a very nice view. “You want me to come with you?”

She’d already told him it was fine, but she gives it due thought again anyway. Something about the idea of seeing Len meet her small namesake is very appealing. But…

Leonard nods as he sees her pause. “Go see the kid without having to explain me,” he says quietly, stretching back out—and smirking as he sees Sara’s eyes trail slowly down his torso, following the line of dark (OK, maybe a little graying) hair under the sheet that’s still slung over his hips. “I’ll see you later.”

“Mmmm.”

“Sara. Aren’t they waiting for you?”

“They’re not going anywhere.” Her fingers twitch with the impulse to reach out and pull away that sheet.

“Neither am I.”

* * *

When Sara finally does leave, Leonard’s not ashamed to admit he goes back to sleep, enjoying the opportunity in a way he rarely can. When he finally rises, he gets ready in a more leisurely fashion, then tries to figure out what to do next.

It’s obvious, probably. It doesn’t take long before he decides to see if he can saunter into the Arrowcave like he does into STAR Labs. Hopefully without getting an arrow through the brain.

Well. He’s never been one to make the wisest decisions. And the challenge is intriguing.

Presumably, Queen & Co. won’t want to piss off Sara by killing him. So there’s that.

Memory gets him to the site. Skill gets him in. The security system is good, very good, but it’s not Leonard Snart good. He doesn’t even trip it. He just…convinces it.

So, he’s very, very smug when he saunters into the Arrowcave proper, smirk on his face, hands behind his back, trying not to look like a threat but completely willing to look like an asshole.

It lasts as long as it takes him to get far enough for Felicity Smoak (who’s sitting at her desk and studying her computer) to glance up and see him.

“Oh,” she says in a bored tone, “it’s you.” Then, to his surprise, she giggles. “The man of the hour.”

Well, this isn’t what he expected. Or wanted. Leonard frowns at her, letting his arms fall to his sides. “Come again?”

Felicity waves a hand at another desk. “Read ‘er and weep, lover boy.”

Leonard eyes her a moment, then sidesteps over to that desk. There’s a newspaper there, one of the more tabloid-ish local ones, and he glances down at it.

His jaw drops. Felicity snickers again.

There’s a photo there. It’s under the fold, as the top is face down, but it’s still clear and in full color. And it’s…him. And Sara. Kissing. There on the rooftop. A nearly full moon in the background, illuminating them in a scene like something from a movie.

The photographer had somehow managed to miss the archer in green who was on the rooftop with them. Leonard stares at it a moment, then skims the caption. Oh. Peachy. They’ve clearly identified him as Central City’s Captain Cold (“hasn’t been seen for six months since his escape from Iron Heights”) and they’re baffled by Sara (“another Star City Canary?…successor?...who?...why?”). To his slight amusement, the paper’s clearly linked them to the police raid on the drug operation, though not the Arrow, and they’re both being taken as well-intentioned, if vigilante-inclined, heroic types.

It’s a good pic, actually. Even if he never saw it coming. Leonard studies it a moment longer, imagining what’s going to happen if Lisa sees it before he can explain, then shakes his head.

“Way to destroy my image.” he sighs, tossing the paper aside.

Felicity is peering around her screen, looking like she’s holding back laughter. “You did it to yourself,” she points out.

“That’s who I was talking to.” Then something else occurs to him, something involving Felicity and how he first “met” her and who her friends are—and how she’s watching him with such glee. Leonard stops in his tracks. “Wait. Tell me you didn’t send that to…”

Too late. He closes his eyes in resignation as a golden-red blur darts into the room, resolving into a red-suited man who’s not even bothering to wear a mask, but who is wearing an immense grin.

“…Barry Allen,” Leonard finishes. “Gee. Thanks, Smoak.”

Felicity stands, eyes huge. “Wait. You know…”

“Yes, I know his name,” Leonard drawls in exasperation before folding his arms and leveling a stare at the other man. “Barry.”

“Snart!” the younger man says happily. He looks like he’s going to step forward and try for a hug, but Leonard steps deliberately backward when he sees it coming, and Barry stops. “I knew you guys were back for a couple days, but Dr. Stein and Jax and Mick wouldn’t say where you were. You and Sara Lance? Really?”

Leonard keeps his gaze chilly. “That tone of surprise is rather insulting, Allen.”

“I didn’t mean it that way!” Barry looks a little rattled, which is satisfying, but that big grin is still there. Once, Leonard would have assumed it was mocking him, but he knows better now, with 1958 and Gabriel Drive behind him. Barry Allen is idealistic and brave and, OK, kinda cute. He’s also kind, and Leonard knows it now for the odd strength it is instead of a weakness.

If he really thinks Leonard is happy with Sara Lance, that grin is 100 percent genuine.

“It’s just…” Barry actually scuffs a toe on the ground. It’s kind of adorable. Leonard scowls. “…I never even thought it was likely that you two would meet, let alone…ah…”

“Hook up?” Felicity asks gleefully from her desk, apparently deciding to try to stir the pot a little more for her own entertainment. Leonard ignores her, although Barry flushes a little.

“Yeah,” he mutters, though he keeps that damned grin. “After all that protesting about not being a hero…”

“I’m not…” Leonard gives up. “What’s your point?”

“Nothing! Good for you, Snart. I mean…is it serious? Um.” Barry darts a glance at Felicity while Leonard decides he’d rather sink into the ground and vanish than have Barry Allen fishing for clues about his intentions toward Sara. “Does Oliver know…?”

“Does Oliver know what?” The man himself stalks into the room and Leonard closes his eyes in a “give me strength” gesture. There’s a faint sound from the far wall and an elevator opens, letting Laurel out. It’s a measure, Leonard figures, of how weird this whole situation is that he’s relieved to see the lawyer. He tosses a glance her way as she wheels toward them, annoyed that it probably comes out a little pleading, and is even more annoyed when Barry…well, giggles is probably the best word…on his other side.

But Queen takes one look at the paper and snorts, a sound that Leonard thinks might actually contain a little amusement. “Oh, I did,” the archer says. “Frankly, I think everyone in the city has. And beyond.” He gives Leonard a cool look, but there is indeed a hint of humor in his gaze. “I should have warned you. The would-be paparazzi have taken to camping out in places with good views of likely rooftops. Sorry about that.”

He’s not sorry at all. Leonard regards him steadily, then decides not to take the bait. “Well,” he drawls, looking down at the photo. “It’s a good pic. Maybe they’ll give us a copy of the file in exchange for an autographed copy or something.”

Queen loses the smile, but Laurel chuckles. She starts to say something, but they’re interrupted by the footsteps, and Sara’s voice lifting in greeting.

“Hey,” she calls as she enters the room, “look who I found outside!”

Because this day couldn’t much any weirder or more awkward. Still, Leonard finds his lips lifting in a smile as he watches Mick sauntering in at Sara’s side, eyeing the gathered heroes with a look of wary uncertainty. He obviously brightens with relief, too, as he sees Leonard, though he quickly hides it behind habitual surliness and the expression that says clearly that he’s already decided to give no fucks about this gang of heroes before they can decide not to give any fucks about him.

“Allen,” he barks at Barry. “What the hell?”

Barry looks sheepish. “Well, I wasn’t going to bring you in here without asking,” he retorts, then looks at the nonplussed-looking Queen. “Uh. Hi, Oliver…”

Felicity raises a hand. “Uh. Did you just tell the arsonist Oliver’s _name_?”

“Already knew it, Ponytail.”

Eyes go to Leonard, who promptly jerks his thumb at Sara, perfectly willing to pass the buck. She rolls her eyes.

“They’re my _teammates_ ,” she says with exasperation, folding her arms, “no matter what you think of their prior career paths.” She glances at Mick. “You’re not going to burn down the Arrowcave, right, Mick?”

“Pro’bly not.”

“See?”

Queen finds his voice. “Sara…”

Sara can take care of herself. Leonard moves with some alacrity toward Mick. “You let Allen _flash_ you over here? Really?”

His friend shrugs. “I was bored. And Allen wigged out over that pic…though not as much as Ramon did.” He smirks. “You OK? Blondie’s dad didn’t try to murder you?”

“Not yet, anyway.” Leonard’s trying to decide whether to surreptitiously get Mick out of there or stay and watch the potential chaos, when his thoughts are interrupted by a quiet, amused voice.

“Mr. Rory, I presume?”

He glances over and sees Laurel sitting there watching them, a smile hovering around her mouth. He offers her a wry smile, glancing at Mick, who blinks at Sara’s sister as she sits there and considers him.

“Yeah,” he finally manages. “Hi.”

Laurel inclines her head to him, extending her hand. Mick, looking slightly flummoxed, takes it, but keeps holding it as if he’s not sure what to do with it. Leonard, not sure whether to smirk or wince, clears his throat, but Laurel doesn’t seem to mind, considering Mick thoughtfully.

“I understand that you’ve known Mr. Snart here a long time,” she tells him. “In fact, I gather you’re the next best thing to brothers.”

Mick blinks. Leonard blinks. But neither of them bothers to deny it.

“Uh,” Mick says finally. “Yeah. And yer Sara’s sister.”

Leonard winces again. Laurel just smiles.

“I am,” she acknowledges. “And I have _so many_ embarrassing stories about her. And I’m willing to share them.”

Mick brightens. Belatedly, he gives her hand a shake, letting go, but Leonard sees Laurel tighten her fingers around his, briefly, first, almost a gesture of encouragement. Then she starts asking him about Leonard, about how they met, and Lisa, and Leonard decides that even after everything, Mick won’t purposely try to sabotage Laurel’s opinion of him.

He backs slowly off even as Sara comes up beside him, bumping his shoulder with hers and chuckling evilly as she sees Laurel talking to Mick.

“She’s not Mick’s type,” he says, even though he’ll admit some uncertainty. “Too classy.”

“I think you might be wrong about that,” Sara murmurs without saying exactly what he’s wrong about, but continues without clarifying. “Well. Even if nothing like that does happen, I think they might be something even rarer and more special.”

She smiles at his inquiring look, answering the unspoken question. “Friends. And isn’t that unexpected?”

“Huh.” Leonard considers them. Mick can claim all he wants that he doesn’t have friends, but that’s changed, on the Waverider…and he’s certainly behaving himself for the moment.

“Laurel’s good with people,” Sara says softly. “Better than I am. And…she’s changed. Once, I could see her balking at…”

“Befriending a criminal and arsonist?”

“Well, yeah. Now…” Sara smiles a little more, watching as Mick answers some question or another, getting a smile from Laurel. “We’ve all changed.”

“True, that.”

* * *

Somehow, with Barry’s visit and the entry of a few of the other members of Team Arrow, the gathering at the Arrowcave’s developed an oddly congenial atmosphere. Barry’s dispatched to get Iris at Felicity’s insistence, and the Diggle family turns up with wings and pizza at one point. Leonard’s getting used to getting various sorts of once-overs as new players arrive, and he thinks he’s handing them with equanimity.

When the Diggles arrive, Sara reaches for the tiny, curly-haired girl with a murmur of pleasure, and Leonard can’t help but watch as small Sara Diggle reaches for her in return. He exchanges a glance with the namesake’s father—one that on John Diggle’s part says clearly “don’t mess with us—or her--and we won’t mess with you”—and nods in acknowledgement.

The man Felicity calls “Curtis” gives him another sort of once-over, and the men exchange a nod with its own sort of recognition. He’s cute, in the sorta-geeky-yet-sorta-badass way Leonard has a certain predilection for in guys, and it’s kind of nice to see the same sort of appreciation there, even if neither one of them will act on it.

Then Thea Queen arrives and, having apparently been filled in by Sara, checks him out in the sort of semi-lascivious slow scan that actually draws a smirk from Leonard’s face. She winks at him when she’s done, and he winks back, and just like that, they seem to be OK.

Someone, at some point, gets beer and other beverages. Leonard notes in bemusement that a few more familiar faces have arrived…the Steins and Jax, Cisco and Snow. Sara’s in her glory, talking to old friends and new, and after a while, Leonard merely gets a drink, parks his back against a wall and watches her, smiling at her happiness.

“Snart.”

“Queen.” Leonard takes a drink of his beer, not taking his eyes off Sara. Oliver Queen leans next to him, apparently watching the same thing. After a few moments, though, Leonard can feel the gaze on him.

“I do not...dislike you as much as I would have thought.”

As overtures go, it’s certainly not the friendliest, but it’s more sincere for all that, and Leonard turns a little, eyeing the vigilante. “Same,” he drawls. Then he tilts his head. “I’m sensing a ‘but.’”

(He thinks he deserves a medal for not layering innuendo in those last words. A freakin’ medal.)

Queen doesn’t seem aware of that, but he does acknowledge the words with a return tip of his head—and a frown that makes Leonard frown in return.

After a moment, Queen speaks again. “I want Sara to be happy. She’s been through a lot and…” He hesitates. “A lot of it was my fault. In one way or another.”

Leonard leaves that alone. “You don’t think she’s happy,” he says, watching Sara and the smile on her face, making it both a question and not. He feels Queen turn his head to watch her too, and the silence between them stretches.

“No,” the other man finally says, with a sigh. “I _know_ she is. I can see it. But…” He looks back at Leonard, who’s rather surprised to see sympathy in his eyes. “Snart. For how long?”

Leonard narrows his eyes. “Explain.”

Queen looks back at Sara, who’s still holding a contented-looking Sara Diggle and talking to the woman named Lyla. “What are you going to do?” he asks. “Come back from killing Savage and go back to being a crook?” His gaze flicks back to Leonard. “Shift paths and be a hero?” He holds up a hand as the other man starts to retort. “I know it worked out all right yesterday. But…people know who you were. Do you really think they’ll just let you _change_?”

Leonard wants to get angry about the words, but…there’s a strong feeling of inside knowledge there, and even pain, in Queen’s voice. And he’s wondered about such things himself; it’s why he’d grabbed the opportunity to reinvent himself with both hands, back in 1958. But can he do it in 2016?

He hesitates, and Queen sees it. The other man nods curtly.

“If it doesn’t work out, whatever your new plan is, what happens?” he says. “Do you just leave? Sara…she’s had too many people leave. But do you really feel like there’s a future for you two?”

Leonard stares at him. He still wants to be angry. Hell, he wants to be enraged. He wants to deny what Queen’s saying. But…

He’s said it himself. Queen’s right. Many people aren’t very willing to let juvenile delinquents…or their adult versions…be anything else once they’ve labeled them so.

Leonard glances away. He hears the other man sigh.

“I don’t…” Queen stops. Then he sighs again. “Just…think about it,” he says, shaking his head. He turns and walks away, back toward Felicity.

Leonard watches him go. Then he looks back at Sara, who’s set little Sara down and is smiling at the small girl as she toddles across the floor. And then he turns away, heading for the stairwell.

He needs some fresh air…and some space to think.

* * *

“Where’s Leonard?”

Sara’s been enjoying herself quite a bit during this rather impromptu party in the Arrowcave. She’s kept an eye on Leonard and Mick as she catches up with old friends, pleased at how they seem to be relatively comfortable—definitely more comfortable than she’d feared, or even hoped. Mick had been pleased at the arrival of others he actually knew, and it seems like Stein, of all the people, has decided to be somewhat protective of him.

They’ve become family, on the Waverider. As amazing and unlikely as that might seem.

Leonard had been holding up the wall and watching everyone and everything in his usual fashion, but he’d seemed comfortable enough. But he’s not there now, and Sara realizes she can’t remember when she’d last seen him there. And when she had…

Oliver’s looking guilty. God _damn_ it.

Sara starts for him purposefully, glaring, and Felicity, seeing her coming, glances at him too. Her eyes narrow—she’s even better at judging guilty Oliver Queen expressions than Sara is. Laurel, no slouch at that herself, glances over, then starts wheeling toward them.

Oliver looks alarmed. _Good_.

“We had…a talk,” he says abruptly, folding his arms as the three women converge on him. “But if he left, he left of his own volition.”

“Oliver Queen,” Felicity hisses. “What did you _say_?”

He starts sputtering, but Sara doesn’t want to hear it. She turns away, scanning the room, then starts for the stairs.

“Sara!”

She turns back, looking at Laurel. (Felicity’s already lighting into Oliver as others start to notice.)

Laurel studies her, empathy in her eyes.

“If he left,” she says, “he’s still planning to come back. That man wouldn’t leave you on Oliver Queen’s say-so.”

Sara gives her a reluctant smile. “That man,” she responds, “won’t do _anything_ on Oliver’s say-so.”

Laurel smiles in return. “Go find him,” she instructs. “No matter what stupid thing Ollie said, this Leonard Snart loves you. He won’t have gone far.”

* * *

She’s right.

Leonard, for all his relative dislike of heights, had gone where Sara is likely to find him—up, to the Star City rooftops. She finds him there, staring out at the city, expression distant and thoughtful.

He turns his head as he hears her approach, and she sees a smile flicker across his face. Well, that’s something, at least.

“You OK?” Sara asks as she joins him, gazing out at her city as well.

Leonard makes a noncommittal noise. “I just needed some fresh air.”

Sara snorts. “What did Oliver say to you?”

“Nothing that isn’t true.” But he caves as Sara lifts an eyebrow at him. “Suggested I think about what sort of future we’d have, me and you.”

Sara resolves, again, to kick Ollie’s ass. “That…” She stops. Sighs. “I want a future with you, Leonard. What that future is…we’ll work that out together.”

Leonard gives her another flicker of a smile. “Yes. That’s a given.” He hesitates, then reaches out, taking her hand, a rare sort of gesture for him.

It’s a relief. But Sara frowns, wondering. “Then what’s wrong?”

Leonard looks down and takes a deep breath. But he’s still holding her hand, and he doesn’t drop it. “Sara,” he says slowly. “I don’t know that I’m…that I’m the marrying kind…”

Oh.

Sara takes her own deep breath. Her fingers tighten on his. “Len,” she says, just as slowly. “You and I both know that…that it’s not always just…just a man and a woman, a floofy white dress, and a big party-- and then a house with a white picket fence and 2.5 kids and a golden retriever.”

His eyes lift to hers. There’s so much in them, and for a moment it takes her breath away. Then she clears her throat and keeps going, the emotion in his eyes giving her the strength to continue.

“Really, I think, it just comes down to two people who…who look at each other and say… ‘I love you, and I’ll stay with you,” she says. “If you’ll have me.’”

The words come out more intense and direct than maybe she’d originally planned. But Sara knows immediately that she’s OK with that. She’s at peace in a way she never thought she’d be, actually, standing here on a rooftop in Star City, listening to the sounds of the city below, staring into the eyes of a snarky, infuriating, complicated, wonderful crook.

After a still, oddly serene moment, he tugs her just a little closer, expression gaining an edge of…something. Determination? Resolve? Sara puts her other hand on his chest, feeling his heart beat even through the layers he wears, strong and steady even through that armor.

Then he nods, almost to himself, and speaks.

“I love you,” he tells her quietly. “And I’ll stay with you. If you’ll have me.”

It’s a proposal, and they both know it. Or maybe she’d proposed first, and it’s just his half of a mutual proposal, which seems like them, to be honest. The thought makes Sara smile, even as she goes up on her toes to put them more on a level.

“Yes,” she says in return. “Yes. Of course I will.”

A return smile flickers across Leonard’s serious face, something more complicated than just happiness (though that’s part of it), deeper than just relief. He pulls her close and kisses her, then, there on the rooftop, and Sara winds her arms around his neck and kisses him back, pouring herself into it, letting some of the worries and concerns of the future drift away, because they have this.

They have this.

When they finally separate, they’re both grinning like idiots, even Leonard, for whom that particularly foolish smile seems quite incongruous. After a moment, he shakes his head and settles his features into something more Snartlike, sardonic amusement mixed with his habitual confidence, and holds out a hand. Sara takes it again, then tugs gently, starting to lead him back to the others, the friends and family who might be worried about them.

Leonard goes willingly, especially since she heads for the fire escape and not just the edge of the roof. Sara hears him chuckle as they start down, and glances back at him.

“Anyway, we don’t need a golden retriever,” he tells her solemnly. “We have Raymond.”

She doesn’t stop laughing until they get back to the Arrowcave.


End file.
